


Snow to Stone

by ode_to_an_inkwell



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Ficlet, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ode_to_an_inkwell/pseuds/ode_to_an_inkwell
Summary: Post Season 7, Jon and Sansa steal a moment for themselves in the snow. Soft touches and sweet heartache.





	Snow to Stone

The men dispersed, and Jon strode for the courtyard. He grabbed a blunt blade and practiced at the training post, hitting the wood every way possible and still finding no relief. Jon swung until he was alone in the inky yard lit by torchlight, unable to cease his movement.

“Is this a bad time?”

Jon’s arms dropped to his sides and he spun to follow Sansa’s voice. She stood under a flame, the light spreading across the planes of her face. He dropped the blade and pulled her into a stall of hay for less exposure.

“What’s happened?”

“I don’t know Lannister well enough to trust him, but he has a purpose here. I told Brienne not to leave his side,” she informed.

“Did you forget your gloves?”

She tucked her hands under her furs. “I’ll be alright.”

“Nonsense.”

He pulled his gloves from his hands and gave them to her. Sansa stretched her fingers in the oversized leather and felt Jon’s residual warmth radiate through her bones. He took pleasure in finding something he could do for her.

“What’s bothering you? I haven’t seen you move like that since…” The image of Jon brutalizing Ramsay’s face flashed to the front of her mind.

He bowed his head. “Nothing. There are just so many uncertainties now. So many people.” He peered up at her. “It’s getting harder for me to protect you.”

Her eyes were warm, inviting. Safer to speak out here than in the castle. “We protect each other. Littlefinger is gone. That’s one less person to worry about.”

“And five more arrive each day,” Jon rebutted.

Sansa took another step toward him so that only a sliver of space existed between the two. How loath that space was. “Don’t worry about the Lannisters. You worry about the fight. I’m always battling our enemies inside my thoughts.”

“You can’t spend your whole life in battle,” Jon declared. “You need rest.”

Her lips quirked up. “I’ll rest when we have fewer enemies.”

Jon’s face grew into a grin. “You astonish me.”

Sansa pondered his implication. “That word can mean to make someone stone. To stun them into stillness.”

Jon reached up to stroke her hair. His hand cupped her jaw; he could feel her pulse there, the beat a precious melody. “You astonish me.”

She smiled back at him in the darkness. Jon still held her face, unwilling to part with it. He wanted Sansa to be his and his alone, but he couldn’t reconcile his reasons for desiring such a thing. He could only be still and have this one moment with her. A glimpse of joy which remained unattainable. This was the unmistakable cruelty of some gods. But their souls felt still as if they had found home again and never intended to leave it. Jon traced her face with his fingertips, enraptured by the softness of Sansa’s skin. It felt like he drew lines of fire upon her, and she shuddered.

“Are you cold?” She shook her head. “Would you like me to stop?” She gave a second shake. The pair soaked in the relief of giving in to some desires without the painful urge to examine them. In their solitude, they forgot who they were supposed to be and knew each other only for what they were. His fearsome lady, and her gentle knight. But such freedom could not last. Sansa thought she would shatter when he drew his hand away. They remembered who they were, brother and sister, and felt a reflexive shame. The sensation of wholeness drained from Jon and Sansa with each step they took away from each other.


End file.
